


only liars, but we're the best

by unbreakable_groundriot



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst Because Of Dumb Assumptions, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Britpicked, Peak Dumbassedry, Post-Apocalypse, Short Chapters but Slow Burn, Slow Burn, non-graphic mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 02:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbreakable_groundriot/pseuds/unbreakable_groundriot
Summary: “See you at six then.""Mmhm. Yeah. Six.""Right, I’d better let you go.""Mmhm. Love you."Neither creature hangs up the phone. The silence is overwhelmingly awkward."I...Uh...Hnnk..." The demon sputters. "Force of habit!""Force of habit?" Aziraphale repeats slowly. They'd spoken on the phone at least once a week since they ruined the end of the world. Crowley has never once ended a call with such an endearment."Yeah! Uh...Nng... I have a... A boyfriend. Yeah. Habit now and all yeah."Inspired by a Tumblr post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this from sleepymccoy ](https://sleepymccoy.tumblr.com/post/187075652409/crowley-accidentally-saying-i-love-you-as-he) on Tumblr and I just had to do it to 'em.

"See you at six then."  
"Mmhm. Yeah. Six."  
"Right, I’d better let you go."  
"Mmhm. Love you."

Neither creature hangs up the phone. The silence is overwhelmingly awkward.

"I...Uh...Hnnk..." The demon sputters. "Force of habit!"  
"Force of habit?" Aziraphale repeats slowly. They'd spoken on the phone at least once a week since they ruined the end of the world. Crowley has never once ended a call with such an endearment.  
"Yeah! Uh...Nng... I have a... A boyfriend. Yeah. Habit now and all yeah."

Aziraphale is very certain he feels his celestial heart break in half. His human heart certainly stops for a few beats. "Oh! Oh...Well, that's wonderful, dear boy. I never took you for the dating type. Why I would love to mee-"  
"Uh huh. Yeah. See you at six, angel."

He sets the phone down slowly. A boyfriend. Crowley is dating someone. He had always thought, well now it was just silly, but he had always thought that the demon carried a torch for him. He sniffles and laughs weakly.  
"I really am a fool, aren't I?"

* * *

"Well, he must have a name." Aziraphale presses. "You can't just, what is the saying? Leave me hanging. Yes. You can't just leave me hanging!"

Crowley groans. He's practically draped himself over their table at the new Japanese place Aziraphale had invited him to. "You're killing me with the questions. I told you I don't want to talk about it."  
"But you're in love! It's... Well, it's lovely. You're my friend. I would like to know about who stole your heart."

He sounds so cheery about it that it makes Crowley's stomach twist. Doesn't he care? He'd always imagined that maybe one day... Maybe one day Aziraphale would get the hint. Maybe one day he would realize that Crowley is and always has been totally, madly in love with him. He was so stupid. He'd always known it was a stupid idea, but now that they weren't slaves to their masters anymore he had gotten his hopes up.

Aziraphale always found a way to break his heart without realizing it.

"Don't say it like that. I'm a demon. My heart is black and shriveled up as it should be."  
"Of course of course." Aziraphale sets his chopsticks down and pats his mouth primly. "I'm just... You never said anything. I wasn't even aware you," he waves his hand with a limp wrist in a sort of flopping motion and Crowley can't be sure if it's on purpose or just part of the habits the angel had picked up living among homosexual male humans for so long, "were the type. I don't know what I assumed really."  
"We don't all spend our guineas freely."

The angel rolls his eyes. "I am simply more open about my proclivities."  
"I am literally wearing women's trousers."  
"That doesn't mean very much these days."  
"...Suppose you're right, yeah."

* * *

"Are you certain? Now you have me worried that I'm keeping you away from your boyfriend!"  
"Someone preserve me. I'm going to crash us into a building." Crowley groans. Aziraphale simply won't stop asking and begging for information about a man that simply does not and would never exist. "It's fine. I'm yours all night, yeah? I want to get drunk on your expensive wine. Can't do that if I'm not at your place."

Aziraphale pats his thighs and wiggles a little. He then grabs at the roof of the Bentley as they nearly clip a pedestrian in Crowley's haste to illegally park in front of the bookshop. "If you're quite sure."  
"Yeah. Quite."

He grabs the first dusty bottle of something red and throws himself onto the sofa. He kicks off his boots and tosses his glasses onto the table as if he owns the place. He very much wishes he owned the place.

"I do wish you would at least pretend to know where your shoes go." Aziraphale picks them up and sets them carefully along with his own.  
"I could or you could just put them away for me." He uses a claw to pull the cork out of the bottle. He flicks it at Aziraphale which earns him a Look.

"You love it." He grins. His stomach roils again. He tries to drown the feeling by taking a deep pull of wine.  
"You will not." Aziraphale plucks the bottle right out of his hand. "Head up. Let me sit." He frowns then. "We probably shouldn't anymore seeing as you're taken."

Crowley sits up onto his hands. "Huh? Why not? Nothing wrong with it."  
Aziraphale miracles up proper wine glasses. He has a little smile on his face. "It's inappropriate."  
"No one has to know..."

The angel's free hand strokes through his hair once as he hands him his filled glass. "I would know. You need to think things through now, hm? Love is not something one should play around with. It's a sacred thing. I couldn't live with myself if you lost that gift because of me." He sits at his desk and rolls up his sleeves.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be anymore. Aziraphale was supposed to sit on the couch with Crowley's head in his lap. They were supposed to drink and Aziraphale was supposed to play with his hair. That was how it worked now!

"Angel, I can assure you..."  
"I've made up my mind."


	2. Chapter 2

"Another new job?" Aziraphale watches as Crowley rolls onto his stomach. He's properly sloshed and nearly slithering off of the sofa.  
"Mmhm. Change of pace. Likes to travel." He waves his arm about. It falls limp onto the floor and he slides off of the sofa just a little more.

Aziraphale is nowhere near as drunk. He's barely buzzed really. Drinking with Crowley just wasn't as much fun anymore. He is always too worried about slipping up. He taps his fingers against his glass absently.

His name was Raphael. He was blonde or maybe a brunette, or was it greying? Crowley refused to show him any photos even though he was certain his phone was full of them. Crowley had invented selfies and Instagram! He took credit for Snapchat, but that was all humans.

Raphael had been a journalist three months ago, but without a last name it had been impossible for him to find any trace of him. Before that Crowley had mentioned something about herpetology and Harvard, but he'd mumbled that one. He'd checked every department webpage and hadn't found a trace of anyone with the name Raphael. Perhaps it was a nickname?

"He must have a resume ten miles long."  
"Mmph. He's a real renaissance man."

He takes the smallest sip of his whiskey. Crowley had brought it over and it was perfectly aged and just his taste, but he can't find in pleasure in the drink. "Archeology is a wonderful profession. Where did you say the dig is?"  
"Uh... Monaco."  
"... Monaco has a need for an archeological dig?"  
"I don't ask questions, angel."

He swirls his glass now. Crowley rolls over and sluggishly drains his glass. He waves it around with a pleading look. "Refill, angel."

He stands and takes the glass away from him. "I think you're done for tonight, my friend." He strokes his messy red hair and the demon leans into it like a spoiled cat. He swallows audibly and pulls his hand away quickly. Stupid. So stupid. "You don't find it odd that he's never around? That he doesn't tell you details?"

Crowley reaches for the glass limply. "Learned not to ask questions a long time ago, angel." He rolls back onto his stomach. "M'gonna sleep here."  
"Of course, dear boy. I'll get your blanket."  
"Mm... Night. Love you, ‘phale." He passes out with a snort just seconds later.

Aziraphale presses the glass against his chest. He laughs weakly and wipes at his eyes. Far too many tears have been shed over this. "At least you seem happy." He sighs. He sets the glass down and dutifully tucks the demon in.


	3. Chapter 3

"I called you. Why wouldn't I be sure?" Crowley rolls his eyes. He hopes Aziraphale feels it somehow.  
"Well it's your anniversary, isn't it?"  
"M'what?"  
"Oh my. You didn't forget, did you? Your two year anniversary!"

Crowley considers the statement. Of course, Aziraphale would remember some off-handed comment about his anniversary with a man that doesn't exist. It was already hard coming up with excuses as to why his imaginary man was never around. It was even harder keeping it all straight in his head.

It was one of his more stupid schemes. Maybe, just maybe, if he spent enough time telling Aziraphale about the imaginary Raphael the angel would push him up against a wall and kiss him or maybe he would call him tearfully and confess his love or...Or something. Anything but so damned supportive and happy for him.

So far it had been two years of absolute Hell. Aziraphale didn't like to sit close together anymore. He didn't want to hold Crowley's arm when they walked and he most definitely would not play with his hair anymore. It was worse than before when Aziraphale was still terrified of Heaven.

He had fucked it all up with one stupid, stupid slip of the tongue.

"Uh... No. I didn't forget." He huffs out finally. "We don't worry about that sort of thing." He tries to sound assured, but it comes out forlorn. It had been six thousand years. Aziraphale had to catch on eventually. A rejection would be better than this.  
"Is he not there again, Crowley? You can be honest."

He sounds so damned sincere.

"I think I'll stay in for the night. Sorry to bother you."

* * *

It can't be a healthy relationship, Aziraphale decides. Crowley never seems to want to talk about this Raphael and when he does finally get some answers out of him the demon changes the subject as quickly as possible.

Raphael is never around. Aziraphale had even tried to sniff out the scent of a human on Crowley but he'd only gotten a whiff of his very expensive cologne. He looked for any stray hair on Crowley's clothes. He once thought he found one, but it ended up being one of his blonde hairs. He'd even popped up to Crowley's flat unannounced more than once. He always found Crowley watching television or sleeping. There was no sign of human life.

Was this Raphael character just using Crowley? Poor thing. Crowley was too much invested in his first love that he was ignoring all of the signs! Aziraphale had never been in a relationship-relationship with a human, but he was certainly more experienced than Crowley when it came to human love.

He picks up his phone and sets it down again. He should call. He should have Crowley come over and explain to him what was happening to him. He should have done it ages ago. Then he could tell Crowley that he was truly, madly in love with him and that he would make a much better partner than some human.

"Stupid." He groans. He buries his face in his hands. Perhaps he and Crowley weren't as close as he thought they were. The demon might be purposefully hiding any evidence of his human lover. Why would he want Aziraphale to know about his love life? He'd been so cruel to him for so many years. How could he trust him?

He picks up the phone and dials Crowley's number before he can allow himself to process what he's doing. He holds his breath and readies himself. He has to do this. He has to talk to Crowley. He has to be sure.

"Angel? Something wrong?"

Oh my. There is a breathy quality to the demon’s voice that Aziraphale has only heard after certain exertions with humans.

"Angel?"  
He shakes his head. Focus. "No! I...Well, I was going to invite you over for drinks, but you sound busy. Sorry to bother. Okay. Goodbye." He slams the handset back onto the receiver before Crowley can speak.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley had never had much interest in romancing humans. Hell had a whole department dedicated to sins of a sexual nature and he tried to avoid those sorts of jobs.

As such Anthony J. Crowley was a virgin at over six thousand years old. He’d gone through his first awkward fumbling with a very handsome man about a thousand years after he’d tempted Eve. Kissing had been very nice but the man had tried to get a hand up his robes and he just couldn’t do it. He had kissed a few other men along the way. He’s tried kissing women but there was something about it that was off-putting.

He didn’t put much thought into any of it, but he did enjoy the idea of human sexuality and gender. He was a demon and had born as nothing, by human standards, and that didn't sit well with him. So, he tried to copy humans. He found that he quite liked the flexibility of gender. He could be whatever he wanted at any time. Usually, he decided based on the weather. Really hot days just screamed for sundresses and cold days declared tailored jackets and leather boots. He did tend to prefer a male presentation for the simplicity of it.

Sexuality was a whole other business. He knew he was in love with Aziraphale and Aziraphale presented as a male human. He presented as a homosexual male human to be exact. He didn’t like being sexless and genderless. The angel had admitted that exact fact one drunken evening.

Given that Aziraphale was male and he wanted to kiss him, Crowley decided that he too was a homosexual human... Or would it be heterosexual when he was in a more female human mood?

It was all too complicated.

The point was, Crowley was a virgin. He’d always fantasized that one day Aziraphale would wrap him up in his arms and kiss him. Then he would lay him down in bed and give Crowley a first time even better than when Adam and Eve realized what their parts could do. That had been quite awkward to watch, but also very educational. 

He fantasized about it a lot, actually, the Aziraphsle bit that is. He had a whole drawer of things to help him with his fantasy.

He had answered the phone out of worry. Aziraphale rarely called him at such a late hour and he’d never just... hung up.

He hesitates and thinks about it for a long while. Surely Aziraphale was just being strange as always, but what had he meant by sounding busy? Was it a code? Was he in trouble?

He cleans himself of a variety of fluids that had accumulated during several hours of boredom-fantasizing. He gets dressed and drives straight to the bookshop.

* * *

He pushes into the bookshop a few hours after the call. In his usual fashion of not understanding how to knock he does not knock. “Angel! Are you here? You okay?” He stalks through the usual angel hiding places on the ground floor and finds nothing. He can sense the angel is somewhere, but where?

He takes the stairs to the first floor and stalks around there too. He even checks behind bookshelves. 

Nothing. 

“Aziraphale?”

A thump. 

He turns his head so quickly that his neck cracks. It sends a shiver down his spine. The flat! 

Aziraphale called it a flat at least. It was nothing more than a tiny bedroom with a tiny bathroom and tiny kitchenette. He’d let Crowley sleep on the bed a few times and that had been absolute Heaven. 

He walks through the S section of books and around the corner. Then he walks up the three little stairs that lead to the little flat. “Angel!”

He pushes the door open and smells it. 

Sex. 

He’s known for quite some time that Aziraphale was not some blushing, angelic virgin. He knew what sort of clubs and bathhouses Aziraphale used to frequent. He’d even once met the very nice young man Aziraphale was courting at the time. The poor lad had gone mysteriously bald and impotent only a few days later, but that was not the point. 

The point was that Aziraphale had some pretty young thing under him and they were... They were having sex. The boy, who might be closer to thirty human years, but Crowley has trouble with figuring out human ages, is the first one to meet his glance. He looks smug rather than embarrassed at being caught mating. 

Aziraphale doesn't turn around. He’s in an awkward position where if he does his Effort will be bared to the world, but if he doesn’t it will remain buried in a whole other world. He clenches the sheets between his fingers and pants. “Bit busy, Crowley.” He pants. Crowley can see the red creeping down his back. 

“Hnnk... Phbbt... Yeah. Yeah. Uh huh. Sorry. Sorry. Just gonna... Bluh... Gonna...”  
“Out!”

The door slams in his face. 

* * *

He is proud to say that he doesn’t start crying until he reaches his car. He calmly miracles the windows to be extra tinted and the inside to be soundproof. He takes off his sunglasses and sets them down neatly before he starts to have a complete breakdown. 

It’s an achievement in his book. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will forever hc Zira identifying as a gay man and Crowley's gender being "probably."


	5. Chapter 5

They don’t speak of it just like they’ve never spoken of anything involving their emotions or feelings for the last six thousand years. Why start now?

Aziraphale calls Crowley up for drinks and cards a few days later, but the demon doesn’t think he can stomach the bookshop at the moment. He counters the offer with a suggestion that they drive out to that tiny Greek place they’d found on the way to Tadfield those few years ago. It’s a bit of a drive, yeah, but he didn’t mind. He’d had to promise five times. 

Mostly he just wanted Aziraphale in the Bentley where he could pretend nothing was wrong when everything was most certainly wrong. 

“So... How is Raphael?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. 

Crowley glares at the road. He silently curses a pothole to grow larger. “Fine, yeah. Just fine as always.”  
Aziraphale plays with his cuff links out of habit. “He sounds a fine man, you know, but I do hope you’ve put to mind that he is a human and they do... start asking questions after a while.”  
“You would know, yeah?”  
He rolls his eyes. “I have had plenty of human friends and so have you. After about ten years they always start asking about why we don’t age.”

Crowley’s grip on the steering wheel is just a little tighter. Ten years was a blink of an eye. When you’ve lived so long days seem like hours and weeks like days. Months are weeks and years are months. Ten years. He couldn’t keep this up for ten years.

It had once occurred to him a fit of pique directed at his plants that he could just get rid of the pretend Raphael. Say they broke up or maybe he’d died! Aziraphale would certainly hug him if said he died. 

But that wasn’t the point. He wanted Aziraphale to be jealous! He wanted some sort of reaction, damn it. He hated this supportive, friendly way he went about the whole thing. He wanted him to demand that Crowley not leave at the end of the night! He wanted him to kiss him! Make him stay! He wanted... he just wanted to hold his hand. That would be enough. It would be so nice to just hold hands or even let their legs touch when they sat together. That would be fine too. 

“Thought about it.” He grunts out. “I’ll just leave before that. Right proper bit of evil that.”  
Aziraphale gives him a doubtful look. “You would never. I know you too well, Anthony J. Crowley.” He pats his knee once and Crowley thinks he might combust.   
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”  
“Of course, dear boy. I don’t want to add any doubts to your relationship.”

* * *

The coffee is strong and, apparently, the moussaka is excellent. Crowley isn’t a big fan of eating considering everything tastes like dirt. He’d gotten a right scolding from the Almighty after the whole tree business and now he just couldn’t taste food. Drink was a loophole he was happy to exploit. 

The ouzo was also very strong and his glass just kept refilling itself as if by magic. 

“Whassit like?”  
Aziraphale looks up from his plate. He takes ages and ages to eat. Something about savoring flavors. He’s barely halfway through his moussaka and it’s been two hours. “The food? Oh, it’s lovely. There is just the right amount of nutm-“  
“Nununu. Sex.” He hisses out low and particularly sibilant. He’s very drunk. He’s so drunk, in fact, that he doesn’t remember how they got to the restaurant. 

Aziraphale sets down his fork carefully. “I think it’s time for you to sober up, dear boy.”  
“Uh uh.” He leans against the table with his chin on his hand. “I wanna know.”  
“This is not appropriate dinner conversation. Sober up.”  
“If I do... you’ll tell me later, yeah? Promise?” He holds out his pinky with a grin that’s all teeth.   
Aziraphale sighs. “Fine. Promise.”

* * *

When they get back into the Bentley the air is tense. Crowley had sobered up and his stupid, stupid question had come rushing back to the forefront of his mind.

"Look, angel-"  
"Crowley-"

They stare at each other. Crowley clears his throat first.  
"Hnnk...Shouldn't have asked that. I was drunk. I shouldn't have gotten that drunk." He drums his bitten nails against the dash.  
"It was...an unexpected question to be certain." The angel sits prim and proper with his hands in his lap. He stares straight ahead. "But we're friends, correct? Friends talk about these sorts of things."  
"Not sober," Crowley grumbles.

Aziraphale is looking at him now. Really looking at him. "I simply assumed that you had done the deed before."  
He feels his face go red. "I have! Plenty of times. Loads of times." He realizes his words come out rushed and slightly frantic. "I was asking about...about sex with humans. I've never done it with a human before." When Aziraphale's brows fly nearly to his hairline he smiles awkwardly. "You know, done it with demons and uh..."  
"Is Raphael an angel?"

There's something painful in Aziraphale's voice. He doesn't like it at all.   
"Uh...Yes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is just a dumb twink that wants a hug.


	6. Chapter 6

An angel! Raphael was an angel. He really should have known by the name. An angel wouldn't leave the scent of human around Crowley. An angel could have any hair color he wanted at any moment. An angel could have a dozen careers!

Raphael being an angel made the whole situation worse.

First, how had they met? Aziraphale couldn't think of any angels named Raphael, but there were ten million of them and he didn't spend much time Upstairs. Was he one of the other Earth agents? Must be if he was wandering around the planet.

Second, how had Aziraphale never sensed him? He would have noticed an angelic presence especially in the early days when they were both on high alert at all times.

That was it! Aziraphale sat up straight. He'd been slumped over his desk for hours now. Raphael was a double agent sent to hurt Crowley! Why else would an angel willingly risk his status to have a relationship with a demon let alone a demon traitor like Crowley? That bastard! He was going to break poor Crowley's heart when the truth was finally revealed.

He stands and starts pacing his office. He had worried that this Raphael was simply using Crowley for sex or money. The demon was not stupid, but he was sometimes a little naive. He certainly craved attention and affection and if he was getting that from this bastard then he might overlook any signs of treachery.

He pauses to glare at the Bible sitting on the top shelf of his desk. "I thought I showed him that I was willing to take things to another level." His eyes bounce over to the little pothos plant Crowley had gifted him as a bookshop warming gift. "I really did. We...We went on proper dates. We held hands." He gesticulates wildly as if the plant really understands him. "I asked him to put his head on my shoulder. Asked! Don't even get me started about the hair thing."

He huffs when he gets no response. He paces toward the kitchenette and starts to make himself a very angry cup of tea. The little snake plant on the windowsill seems to be judging him. "What? I was doing everything short of throwing myself at him. I thought he felt the same way. He didn't make a move. Not my fault he didn't catch on."

He snaps and the kettle starts to whistle right away. He pours the water onto the very expensive loose leaf tea Crowley had gifted him. The little white teapot is a gift from Crowley too.

"That must be it!" He looks back at the plant. "He's never been in a relationship! Never had been at that point. He must have thought it was normal!" He shakes his finger at it. "Once I explain everything he'll see and he'll choose me. I'm obviously the better choice."

The plant is silent.

He pours his tea into his mug and adds a splash of milk. He watches the tea slowly turn murky. His shoulders droop. "But I'm really not, am I?" He looks back at the plant. "I've been cruel to him all these years and he's been so kind. Perhaps he wouldn't even want me." He sighs. Plants don't make very good conversation partners. "Well, I still can't bear to see him hurt. I'll call him up later, hm?"

He sits at his desk and addresses the pothos again. "Or... I could try to find this Raphael. We could have a nice chat. Just a chat."

* * *

"I'll just tell him the truth." Crowley spritzes one of his orchids. "And he'll be cross for a while but then he'll come around again. I'll tell him that it's him I'm in love with. I'll tell him everything!"

He moves on to inspects his rubber plant. It shivers a little under his touch. "How...How I've loved him for ages, yeah? How I want him to be my boyfriend for real." He feels a very un-demonly giddiness at the very idea. "And then we'll hold hands whenever we want. He has the softest hands." He checks the soil carefully. "I could grow my hair out again. He would brush it for me I'm sure. Do you think he can braid? I'm sure he can."

He slides down the wall of the atrium. His plants relax just barely. "And we'll have sleepovers. Proper ones. If he doesn't want to share a bed that's fine. Do you think he would like bunk beds?" He tips his head back. "And he'll tell me he loves me all the time." He pulls his knees to his chest. "That would be the best part." He snivels as tears start to fall down his pale cheeks. He hiccups. He shouldn't let his plants see him like this, but they're the only living things in the entire flat. 

"Who am I kidding?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Department of Heavenly Resources, Camiel speaking. How may I help you?" The angel on the line sounds horribly bored.  
"Hello, yes, well." Aziraphale clears his throat. He'd been on hold for nearly two hours. He wasn't exactly banned from Heaven, but the name Aziraphale may have become a four-letter word. "I was hoping you could direct me to the angel named Raphael?"  
He hears the tapping of a keyboard on the other side of the line. Camiel sighs not unlike a teenager being asked to wash the dishes. "Raphael isn't in Heaven at the moment. I can pass along a message."

Aha! So there was an angel on Earth.

"Might I get his contact information instead? I have information he needs to complete his...mission."  
"Right right. One moment please."

He holds the phone away from his ear so he doesn't have to tolerate hearing "Do-Re-Mi" again. This seemed far too easy, but he wasn't going to question it overmuch.

Soon enough Camiel is back. He gives an address that is on the other side of the city. How had he not sensed him before? He thanks the bored receptionist and stares at the address and phone number he's written down.

This is it then. He's going to give that bastard a stern talking to. He writes up a quick note on celestial letterhead and miracles it to the other angel's location. He receives his reply in only a few moments.

He dons his frockcoat and practically stomps his way to their agreed-upon clandestine meeting location.

* * *

Raphael was... Not what he expected. Sitting on a bench at St James' Park is a tiny female-presenting angel. She has terrified grey-blue eyes and carefully styled pink hair.

Oh my.

He sits next to her with his hands in his lap. "Raphael, I assume."  
"Y-Yes." She squeaks. She scoots away just a tad.  
He sighs. "I'm not going to hurt you. There has been a terrible misunderstanding I'm afraid." He massages the bridge of his nose. "I assume you have no knowledge of the demon Crowley?"  
"I know who he is!" She whispers. "I'm meant to stay away from him and you. I've been trying very hard, I assure you!"

He groans. Why was this such an ordeal? "So you haven't contacted him at all?"  
"N-No!"  
"Why are you here then, dear girl?" He asks her in a gentle tone. She seems so scared. It's a good thing, really, but he hates to see it.  
"I'm...I'm your replacement. Someone has to take care of things up here." She frets with his hair a little. "I've been hiding my aura as best I can. Did I do something wrong?"

He takes one of her hands and pats it soothingly. "No. You haven't done anything wrong at all." She smiles and him and he returns it. "I hope you're doing good things for the humans. They may be a little rough around the edges, but deep down most of them are very good."  
Raphael turns her attention to the park. "I love them all so much. Even the ones who aren't very good." She grins then. "It's so hard not to love the ones who aren't very good."


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley was lying to him. Raphael, the one he'd found, had been a sweet, honest girl with not even the faintest stench of evil around her. She had probably never even seen a demon before. She was not Crowley's boyfriend.

So why was he lying? Or was he? Crowley had no reason to lie to him. They were best friends. Crowley would never lie. There had to be something else going on. Perhaps this Raphael was giving Crowley a false name! It wasn't right.

He rings the doorbell to Crowley's flat twice before simply letting himself in. "Crowley!" He hangs up his coat and toes off his shoes. He pauses to listen for a response but gets none. Then he hears a snort from deep within the flat. Crowley is sleeping.

He pushes through the gaudy stone doors that lead into the plant atrium. He pauses to inspect them with a little smile. He knows about the demon's plant-god complex. They are lovely and he tells them so.

He goes through another stone door that leads to Crowley's bedroom. There are two beds, which Aziraphale has never really questioned, set up not unlike a stereotypical old sitcom bedroom. Crowley is usually sprawled out on the one closest to the window, but he has caught him clinging from the wall or the ceiling.

He sits on the edge of Crowley's bed and smiles fondly down at the sleeping demon. He clings to a black body pillow and is all wrapped up in an electric blanket. He pets his bed head red hair slowly.

He had thought that things would be different now that they were on their own side. He had pushed down his feelings for Crowley for so long. He should have acted faster. He should have said something. Even if Crowley rejected him it would be better than this.

"Angel?" The demon's eyes blink open and then close again. "What're you in here for?" He nuzzles into his pillow a bit more.  
"I... Just wanted to check up on you." Aziraphale lies easily. "Perhaps we could spend some time together when you wake up.  
"M'kay. Couple more hours."  
He leans down and brushes his lips against Crowley's forehead. The demon is already asleep.

* * *

"I love you."  
He huffs. No. Too subtle. Aziraphale would never get it.  
"I have loved you since time began."  
Too dramatic.  
"I want to spend the rest of forever with you."  
Better.  
"I'm in love with and want to spend the rest of forever with you."

He grins and rubs his hands together. He likes to think he looks like an evil villain hatching a plan, but the bathroom mirror just shows a blushing demon whose smile is more giddy than mischevious.

"Crowley? Are you talking to yourself in there?"  
He jumps. "Huh? Hnnk. What? No!" What had he heard?  
"Oh... Were you on the phone then?"

Crowley opens the door rather quickly. Aziraphale smiles with a curious tilt of his head. He can feel the words on his tongue. They're right there. Just say it. Just say it!  
"Uh...Yeah. Was Raphael. Sorry." He makes a shooing motion. "Come on then. If you're dragging me to this shit we may as well not be late."  
The angel's smile changes in a way he can't quite comprehend. "Of course, dear. Off we go then."

* * *

Crowley's leg bounces nervously. He rests his elbows on both legs and leans against his hands. It's an uncomfortable, shaky position, but he feels uncomfortable and shaky to begin with. Aziraphale wanted to chat. He never wanted to chat. He always called Crowley over to go out or play cards or drink. They didn't talk. Talking? They didn't do that. He planned to keep it that way for as long as possible. He felt the need to scream from the rooftops that he loved the angel, but he always wanted to bury himself under a rock and never speak again. It was very complicated.

The blonde sets down a cup of tea that is half cream and half tea and his own tea with just a bare splash of milk. "There we are. I used double cream for you. I don't know why you insist on it. It's like trying to mix in sour cream, honestly." His smile doesn't make Crowley feel any better. "Are you alright? Crowley?"

He startles slightly. "Fine. Just fine. Yeah. Tea. Thanks." He grabs the mug and stares into it. It's a gaudy thing shaped like a cactus. Aziraphale had presented it to him as a gift that he could keep at the bookshop. "Just uh...Thinking. You know how it is."  
The angel pats his knee once before sitting back. He sips his tea and gives a contented sigh. The bastard. How can he be so calm at a time like this? He wants to chat!

"I was thinking as well." He sets his angel wing mug down. "About your relationship." He laces his fingers together.  
"Hnnk... It's going great. I don't know why we'd need to chat." His voice pitches up. Stupid. Stupid. "Chat over, yeah? Let's get drunk." He tries to get up but there's a hand on his knee again.

Aziraphale looks at him with... It's pity. That's what it is. It's pity and it pisses him off. "Crowley, you've been acting different since you started this...relationship. You seem to be constantly anxious. You aren't yourself."  
His mouth twitches. "Love changes you, Aziraphale. Sorry, you wouldn't know about it. Right?" He regrets everything that is about to happen before it even happens. "You just fuck and leave, yeah?"

The angel's mouth goes thin and straight. "Perhaps you should go home, Crowley."


	9. Chapter 9

Six months. 

Six awful months of no contact. Aziraphale hadn’t phoned him. He hadn’t sent a snarky letter or anything! Crowley watched him putter around his bookshop as if nothing was wrong. He spent a lot of time watching him, actually.

Everything was wrong! How could he go on without Crowley so easily? Didn’t he care? Yeah, he’d said something kind of fucked up, but he was a demon. That’s just what he was programmed to do. 

In all honesty, he’d slept for the second and third months. He’d held up hope the first month that Aziraphale would call him and scold him and then invite him for tea. Then he’d gotten depressed. Now he was depressed and angry and desperate. 

His scheme wasn’t working and that was finally becoming clear. It had been a little over three years since his slip up and things had only gotten worse. 

This was it. This was his last stand. This was Plan A, B, and C. 

He looks at himself in the rearview of the Bentley. Showtime. This was it. Time to put all that he’d learned at The Globe to work. He was going to march right in there and steal Aziraphale’s heart. He is going to declare his love.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you.” He mouths. “I’ve been an ass, but I’m going to make up for it if you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath. “You can do this, you dumb bastard. Just tell him the truth.” He throws himself back and groans. “This won’t work! This won’t work! I’m so stupid! I’ve fucked it all up!”

The car doesn’t reply. 

He looks at the bookshop. The lights are off. Aziraphale is going to bed or has chosen a book to study all night. 

“Fuck it.”

He steps out of the car and heads right inside like he owns the place. He really, really wants to own the place. 

Unfortunately the moment Aziraphale turns to him with an earnest, worried expression tears spring to his eyes. It really ruins the cool guy image he’d been trying to craft.

* * *

Aziraphale holds Crowley's face in his hands as he tries to get a straight answer out of him. He was quite used to Crowley's dramatics, but he couldn't say he'd seen him in such a state before.

Crowley hiccups and snivels rather pitifully. He blubbers something, but Aziraphale honestly doesn't catch a word of it. He's not even sure if he's speaking English.   
"Alright. Let's sit you down. There we are."

And then Crowley is clinging to him. The demon presses his face into his belly and wraps his arms around him.   
"Oh my..." He sighs. The last few months have been miserable, but Crowley's words had hit a little too close to home. It made sense that the demon saw him as such. He had anguished over the fact. He had never had a chance with Crowley. "You're alright." He carefully strokes limp red hair. "Did something happen?" He pauses. "With Raphael?"

The demon makes a bizarre groaning sound. He curls his fingers into the folds of Aziraphale's shirt. "Not real."  
"Excuse me?"  
The demon looks up at him finally. His glasses are smudged and foggy so he carefully removes them for him and sets them aside. "S'not real. Never was." He holds on a little tighter. "I lied."

Raphael...wasn't real? That didn't seem right. Crowley wouldn't lie for so long about something so important. His low lip wobbles a bit. But he would, wouldn't he? He was a demon and even the kindest demons were very good at lying.

"Why?"  
Crowley tried to press close against his stomach as if he expected Aziraphale to escape at any moment. "I love you. I've only ever loved you. I was afraid you would reject me." He takes a heaving breath like a toddler that hasn't learned how to cry and breath yet. "So I lied."

His knees go a little weak. He sinks down to his knees between Crowley's legs. He takes the demon's shaking, pale hands and holds them tight. "Why would I ever reject you?"  
Another heaving breath. "I'm a demon. You've done it for years." His mouth twists in anguish. He weakly hits himself in the forehead with their joined hands.

He feels the pain. Aziraphale feels Crowley's pain. It is not a dull throb in the background like love. It is sharp and stabbing and takes his breath away. "Have you always felt like this?" He whispers. Crowley nods sharply.

"Oh... Oh, what a fool I've been." He laughs weakly. How couldn't Crowley love him? How couldn't he see it? It was beyond obvious now that he thought back. Every little miracle performed to see him smile. Every time Crowley showed up in the knick of time to save him. Every box of chocolates and little plant and bottle of wine. It was all Crowley's way of showing his love. "I love you."


	10. Chapter 10

"I was mad with jealousy."

Aziraphale's nails scratch along his scalp. He lays atop the angel with his head happily pillowed against his chest. "Hm?"

"Oh yes. From the very start. I was convinced that the man you cooked up was using you somehow. I even called Heaven when you told me he was an angel. I scared my poor replacement." He chuckles and Crowley feels it wash over him.

Aziraphale had been quite cross with him, as predicted, but he'd also kissed his forehead and apologized for six thousand years of rejection and unkind words. They fell together on the familiar sofa and Crowley soaked in every bit of affection he was allowed.

"Why didn't you say anything?"  
"I tried... Well, I wanted to, but you kept telling me these stories and you seemed to be in love. I see now that I was wrong, of course." He keeps stroking his hair. A demon could get used to this.   
"I... I wanted you to get jealous, but you never did. So I thought... I was going to tell you. I really was." He peers up at the angel with wide, vulnerable eyes.

Aziraphale smiles gentle and kind. "We have the rest of our lives to make up for it, don't we?" He pets Crowley's cheek then. "But we'll have to go on an official first date before we can do that."

He hides his face and murmurs into the soft fabric of Aziraphale's shirt.

"I love you too, Crowley. Ardently."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs on the haters*

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](unbreakable-groundriot.tumblr.com/). You totally can’t find the link to my kofi there either. Every comment is appreciated and I try to reply to them all no matter how small!
> 
> I don’t have a beta so I go back and edit once a story is complete. If you find any big errors please let me know.


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